Chapter 30

Liu Jianjun sent a text message, brief and to the point, as if he were up to some shady deal: "[The item has been placed under the third old locust tree in the southeast corner of the park, in a crevice in the rocks. Everyone retreat to a safe distance.]"

Jin Zhaoxuan replied instantly: [Received, thank you. Keep your distance and be careful.]

The moment the news reached them, the air in the old house seemed to freeze.

On the server screen, the curve representing the core consciousness of Yin Shaoqing, the Buddha statue, began to rise and fall at an extremely pretentious, extremely slow, and extremely solemn frequency, much like the lamp on Ultraman's chest, which had been asleep for thousands of years, was finally about to flash. In the mirror, Teacher Yin was completely enveloped in a layer of dreamy Avatar blue light, his outline blurred, except for the area around his closed eyes where the blue light was most intense, as if he was preparing to unleash a powerful attack.

Jin Zhaoxuan forgot to breathe, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair until they turned white. He felt an invisible pressure permeating the room, not a physical attack, but pure mental pollution, like the kind of irritation you feel when you can't turn off the crazy music from the square dancing downstairs in the middle of the night. Even the hum of the server fan changed, starting to vibrate at a high frequency, like a broken washing machine about to take off.

The big one is coming!

The camera cuts to Shenyang, to the old-fashioned little park opposite the South Gate Catholic Church.

The afternoon sun lazily filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Several old men were playing a game of Chu-Han-Border around a stone table, while in the distance, mischievous children squealed and shouted. Everything was perfectly ordinary and peaceful.

No one noticed that under the old locust tree in the southeast corner of the park, which had a hairstyle resembling Mei Chaofeng's, a piece of silvery metal lay quietly in the shadow of a crack in the stone. Its surface was covered with an extremely faint light, barely visible to the naked eye, flickering like breathing.

100 kilometers away, in an old house in Anshan.

Yin Shaoqing's "perception," or rather, the "consciousness tentacles" he had been holding back for so long, were traveling along a metaphysical rather than a physical path, crossing mountains and rivers, and precisely "hitting" the steel sample.

At first, it was all noise—the muffled groans of the earth, the screech of the stones, the shudder of the subway passing by in the distance, the scraggly background noise of the city, and... countless fragmented pieces of historical memory from this place: the eeriness of the Japanese occupation, the deafening drums of liberation, the clatter of the construction era, and the mundane details of daily life... It was like a pile of moldy cassette tapes being played at the same time, making your head ache.

Teacher Yin's core consciousness remained as steadfast as an old dog, painstakingly sifting through the information storm, searching for that specific "signal"—an "echo" that was born of the same mother as the steel sample in his hand, forged in "iron and fire," bearing a specific technical identity and the patina of time.

Time ticked by. The curve on the server screen was acting erratically, jumping up and down, with peaks fluctuating wildly, perfectly demonstrating what "immense pressure" meant. The blue light in the mirror also started to dance, flickering and erratic, and Yin Shaoqing's figure trembled slightly in the halo of light, as if he had been electrocuted.

Jin Zhaoxuan's heart raced like a rollercoaster, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He dared not breathe, afraid that even a fart would interfere with Teacher Yin's spell. He could only stare intently, frantically conveying his thoughts through his eyes: Brother, hang in there!

Sudden!

The curve on the screen suddenly shot out at an almost 90-degree angle! At the same time, Yin Shaoqing's figure in the mirror trembled violently, and the blue light on his body suddenly became so bright that it could blind a dog!

Found it!

It's not about seeing with your eyes, but a more mysterious and direct form of "intracranial perception."

About fifteen meters underground in the park, beneath the municipal pipe network and the soil, there was indeed a separate space encased in exceptionally sturdy reinforced concrete, like an iron barrel. It was clearly not an ordinary basement; its solidity and airtightness rivaled that of a post-apocalyptic shelter, making it more like a small secret laboratory or armory.

At the heart of that space, Yin Shaoqing "sensed" a strong metallic reaction, identical to the steel sample in his hand but purer and "hotter"! And not just one! There were at least four or five different special alloy "signatures," like a group of dormant embers, emitting a low hum that only he could "hear" in the darkness.

Besides the metal, there was also… the “dry” smell of paper and some kind of special medium (perhaps old-fashioned film or a plate coated with something strange), and a faint trace of chemical residue. More importantly, he “caught” a faint, almost gone, yet soul-stirring “mental imprint”—a complex mixture of resentment, determination, fear, and a touch of perverse excitement, matching the scum-like aura emanating from Koichi Takeda’s notebook!

This is it! The core assets hidden by the Matsumoto Agency! Those "special samples" and "core data" that are "potentially more valuable"!

Before the euphoria could even take hold, disaster struck!

Just as Yin Shaoqing's senses were trying to explore further and find out where the door was, a cold, eerie "force" filled with rejection and malice, like a venomous snake whose tail had been stepped on, suddenly pounced back from the depths of that underground space!

That wasn't a physical attack; it was purely a mystical "curse" or a "powerful negative emotional field"! It's very likely that the mental garbage left behind by those scoundrels at the "Matsumoto Agency" back then, in order to keep it a secret, or by Takeda Koichi and his group themselves for doing too many dirty things, solidified over the years and strangely combined with the "magnetic field" of those special metal samples!

This power from the underworld surged upstream along the resonance channel, crashing headlong into Yin Shaoqing's unsuspecting core of consciousness!

"Ugh—!" In the mirror, Yin Shaoqing let out a suppressed groan of pain. His figure twisted instantly, the blue light flashed violently and then quickly dimmed, and he looked like he was about to fall apart! On the server screen, the curve performed what a high dive looks like, directly triggering a red alert, beeping like an ambulance!

"Yin Shaoqing!" Jin Zhaoxuan was terrified. He jumped up from his chair and rushed to the server, frantically staring at the jumbled data, completely clueless about which key to press for help! He could only helplessly yell at the mirror, "Come back! Cut the connection! Brother, come back—!"

Whether it was hearing his howl or not, Yin Shaoqing's collapsing consciousness unleashed its last vestige of power. The fading blue light suddenly recoiled, condensing into a single point to fiercely protect the core. At the same time, the steel sample serving as a "signal relay station" in Shenyang seemed to be activated by an invisible force, also releasing a clear and resilient "light wave" (not a physical object) with a "hum," directly clashing with that sinister power!

A faint, almost imperceptible cracking sound rang in the minds of Yin Shaoqing and Jin Zhaoxuan simultaneously.

The "homogeneous mark" on the steel sample exhausted its last bit of energy and died on the spot (at the energy level). The underworld power was also temporarily blocked by this sudden counterattack, which carried the mixed flavor of Takahashi Shinsuke and Yin Shaoqing.

Just this once!

With his last bit of lucidity, Yin Shaoqing forcibly cut off the "telephone line" with Shenyang, abruptly retracting all his senses like an injured tentacle!

"puff--"

In the mirror, Yin Shaoqing's figure resembled a shattered blue light vase; the light completely dissipated, turning into countless specks of light before quickly fading and disappearing. The mirror returned to normal, reflecting only Jin Zhaoxuan's own pale, terrified face.

On the server screen, the curve, after hitting bottom, began a feeble, almost lifeless climb upwards, but the pace was incredibly slow and the fluctuations were completely erratic. The status bar displayed a line of cold, large text: [Core consciousness has encountered a high-intensity, unknown impact, stability has collapsed, and forced deep hibernation repair mode has been entered. Estimated recovery time: Guess?]

Quiet.

A deathly silence.

Only the red warning light continued to flash silently, making Jin Zhaoxuan's face look like a ghost.

He stood frozen in place, still in the position of having fallen, completely still. After several seconds, he trembled as he reached out and gently touched the cold mirror surface.

“…Yin Shaoqing?” His voice was as hoarse as a broken gong.

No response.

He looked at the screen again, at the trembling curve that seemed about to die at any moment, and at the glaring "Guess?".

It succeeded, but it seems... it failed again.

They found the exact location and even figured out roughly what was inside. But the price Yin Shaoqing paid was... he was dead.

Jin Zhaoxuan slowly slid down the server rack to the ground, leaning against the cold metal, and looked up at the ceiling. His throat felt heavy and suffocating, as if it were stuffed with wet cotton, but his eyes were so dry that not a drop of water came out.

He pulled out his phone and stiffly texted Liu Jianjun: [Detection complete. Major discovery. Return immediately. Be careful.]

Then, he turned off the annoying red alarm light, leaving only the screen's faint blue glow and the room's impenetrable darkness and silence.

He sat there on the cold floor, guarding that faint curve, guarding the emptiness of the empty mirror.

Like guarding a cluster of lights struggling in a raging storm, not knowing if it can ever shine again...

A small flame.

Time loses its meaning in this room.

Jin Zhaoxuan guarded the server, the mirror, and that curve—weaker than an eighty-year-old's heartbeat. Day broke and night fell, night fell and day broke; he barely slept. When he couldn't take it anymore, he'd slump on the sofa next to him for a while, but at the slightest sound, he'd spring up and rush over to check the screen.

The curve was still there, slowly and laboriously moving upwards, like a seriously injured person climbing a hill. With each small step upwards, Jin Zhaoxuan could hold his breath until he almost suffocated; occasionally, it would get stuck or slip down a little, and Jin Zhaoxuan's heart would stop completely.

Liu Jianjun returned, covered in dust, his face etched with worry. Hearing that Yin Shaoqing had almost lost his life while conducting reconnaissance, this tough Northeasterner's eyes reddened. He patted Jin Zhaoxuan's shoulder heavily, said nothing, and turned to the kitchen to whip up a pot of millet porridge that could be used as paste. Then, he silently checked the old house inside and out again, raising the security level to the highest level.

Jin Zhaoxuan mechanically ate the porridge, finding it tasteless. He watched Liu Jianjun's busy back and said in a hoarse voice, "Thanks."

"Thank me for nothing." Liu Jianjun sat opposite, also holding a bowl. "Teacher Yin... did it for everyone. He's a good 'person.' You have to stand up for him so he can 'come back to life' sooner."

Jin Zhaoxuan nodded and forcefully swallowed the unidentified object in his mouth. He knew he couldn't afford to collapse. The Takeda family was watching him closely, the discovery in Shenyang needed to be dealt with, and there was a mountain of other problems at the company. He had to stay upright.

He began forcing himself to work. Through Xiao Chen's remote control of the company, he negotiated with Liu Jianjun and Director Zhang, anonymously and indirectly leaking information about the underground structures detected in Shenyang and the possibility of them containing wartime black technology to trusted acquaintances in relevant departments. He couldn't openly say that the information came from Teacher Yin's "remote sensing," but he had to hinder the Takeda family's possible grave-digging operation and, incidentally, take advantage of some official support.

After finishing all that, he was even more exhausted. Not physically, but with a dull ache in his heart, like a void had been filled with a jumble of thoughts.

He returned to the server, staring at the infuriatingly slow progress bar and the lifeless curve on the screen, and suddenly felt a chilling emptiness in the room. Before, even if Yin Shaoqing remained silent, just "sitting" in the mirror or inside the server, he could feel that unique, palpable "aura." Now, that feeling was gone, leaving only the cold hum of the machines and the relentless flow of numbers.

He missed the fussy girl who would make the closet door slam its face automatically because he left his socks lying around; he missed the girl who would quietly dim the lights when he stayed up late and bring him warm water when he was thirsty; he missed the girl who would be amused by him and have a hint of a smile in her eyes... He missed everything about him.

Jin Zhaoxuan was never a literary youth who was good at expressing his inner thoughts. His concern was hidden in his sharp tongue and rigid actions. But now, those unspoken words overwhelmed him like a rising tide.

He got up, walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a hardcover notebook that he had bought but hardly ever used—it looked quite expensive. He unscrewed the pen, and the nib hovered over the blank page for a long time.

Then, he lowered his head and began to write. He wrote very slowly, and his handwriting was crooked and messy, as if he were learning to write for the first time.

Yin Shaoqing:

“You’ve been sleeping for three days. Even though the data says you’re recovering, I still think you’re sleeping like a pig.”

"The porridge Brother Liu made is awful, much worse than the lukewarm water you handed me. The air conditioner in the room is like a ventilation system; it's either unbearably hot or unbearably cold. You should wake up and adjust it."

“That crooked tree outside the window, a large patch of it was bald yesterday, it’s probably about to die. You used to say it was very resilient.”

"The company is fine, Xiao Chen is reliable. The Takeda family seems to have quieted down recently, maybe they were fooled by the smokescreen we released, or maybe they're brewing something big. Whatever, we'll talk about it when you wake up."

"I dreamt about the parking lot again. But this time, you were alright, and I didn't kneel. It's just that when I woke up and found you still lying there, it was a bit... disheartening."

He couldn't write anymore. The pen stopped, and the ink smeared into a small blot. He wanted to write "I'm so damn worried," "You better wake up right now," "Without you nagging me, this room is so quiet I could hear the dust fighting"... But in the end, these words got stuck in his throat and turned into these awkward, insincere sentences on the paper.

He slammed the notebook shut in frustration and shoved it back into the drawer. This was so unlike him; so pretentious.

It was late at night. Liu Jianjun was fast asleep in his guest room, snoring loudly.

Jin Zhaoxuan sat alone in the darkness of the living room, only the light from the server screen illuminating half of his haggard, handsome face (in his own opinion). He suddenly stood up and walked to the mirror.

He was the only one in the mirror, with dark circles under his eyes that almost reached his chin, and a scruffy beard; he looked utterly miserable.

He raised his hand, his fingertips touching the cold mirror surface, as if trying to poke the sleeping figure behind the glass.

"Hey," he said, speaking softly to his reflection in the mirror and to the emptiness behind it, his voice barely audible, "Don't sleep."

"I command you, wake up now."

"The company... needs you. The museum project can't be done without you in charge."

"Brother Liu... and Grandma Xiulan, they're all waiting for you to come back and brag."

"And..." He paused for a long time, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, as if he had used all the courage in his life to squeeze out the words that had rolled over in his heart eight hundred times:

"……I."

"I need you."

After saying that, he seemed to have all his strength drained away, and suddenly turned around, his back to the mirror, his shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly.

The room remained eerily quiet.

But the instant he turned around, on the server screen, the curve that had been calm for half a day seemed to... jump up a tiny bit, very slightly.

Like the eyelashes of a sleeping person trembling, like a faint echo from the deep sea calling out to the distant.

Jin Zhaoxuan didn't see it.

He slowly moved back to the sofa, curled up inside, and closed his dry eyes.

Outside the window, the winter north wind howled.

Inside the house, a heart that had been gradually hardening in the cold waiting quietly cracked open, letting out a faint glimmer of light that even it hadn't noticed.